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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29618379">In Pursuit of the Unattainable</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/cosmicbluebells/pseuds/cosmicbluebells'>cosmicbluebells</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>SK8 the Infinity (Anime)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Getting Together, M/M, Mutual Pining</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-15 17:34:46</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>8,628</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29618379</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/cosmicbluebells/pseuds/cosmicbluebells</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p></p><blockquote>
  <p>“Why the hell did you do that?”</p>
  <p>Kojiro sighs. “Not even a hello?”</p>
  <p>“Answer my question.”</p>
  <p>“Fine.” He drops a plate in the sink and rests his elbows on the bar. “People kept asking if we were dating, and I was thinking about it, and I guess…it was a spur-of-the-moment thing, okay?”</p>
  <p>“How do you just kiss someone on a spur-of-the-moment instinct?” Kaoru asks incredulously. </p>
</blockquote>Nanjo Kojiro is the cause of most (if not all) problems in Kaoru's life. Dating is one of them.<br/> <p>["everyone is staring at us after an argument so i'm just going to pretend it was a lovers' quarrel and kiss you."]</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Nanjo Kojiro | Joe/Sakurayashiki Kaoru | Cherry Blossom</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>111</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>1718</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>In Pursuit of the Unattainable</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>wrote this in one sitting to cope with sk8 ep 7,,, i regret everything</p><p>not beta-ed or edited.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Kaoru likes to think nothing can really rile him up. A calm demeanour is key for many things: calligraphy, business, technology. So it isn’t difficult for him to keep a straight face and smile through it all, despite the absolute hot mess that is the people around him.</p><p>Well. With two exceptions.</p><p>The first is skateboarding. Kaoru has been skateboarding since middle school. Unlike so many of his old friends, he’s never quite lost that boyish, exhilarating feeling that stirs up something in his heart when he steps on the board and the wind whips past his ears.</p><p>His equipment has changed, yes; he has Carla now, the product of years spent brushing off social invitations to sit in his bedroom and tinker away. </p><p>He’s also part of a different group of skaters. Adam is gone—or at least merely dancing around the fringes—to which Kaoru thinks <em>good riddance</em>, after the way he’d changed towards the tail end of their unstable friendship.</p><p>Adam is gone, and in his place, there is Shadow, the ever flamboyant florist; Reki, eager and passionate and fiery; Langa, who is calm and collected where Reki is not, but has a devilish streak to match; Miya, the child prodigy, deceptively cunning under his cat-like exterior.</p><p>That’s the extent of it. </p><p>At least, Kaoru wishes it was.</p><p>Nanjo Kojiro is the exception to every rule. Like a giant, six-foot-tall tumbleweed with green hair and broad shoulders and an incredibly punchable face.</p><p>Kaoru has known him since they were awkward high-schoolers, when Kojiro’s uniform was too big for him and he had an angelic smile with barely half the confidence he possesses today. None of the muscles, either.</p><p>Kojiro has changed since high school, Kaoru can admit that much. </p><p>He’s grown into the chiselled planes of his face and his hair frames his face like tendrils of kelp, ruby eyes glinting sharp and that disgusting smirk never leaving his face.</p><p>They’ve been friends (a term Kaoru uses loosely) for more than a decade, and yet Kojiro takes so much pleasure in provoking Kaoru at every turn, teasing and poking him until both of them are screaming and red in the face. Like a pair of toddlers.</p><p>The thing is, it would be a disservice to both of them to say Kaoru <em> hates </em> him. He gets some sort of sadistic, wild pleasure from picking fights with Kojiro—it’s just so easy to piss him off, and it’s more of a habit than anything at this point. </p><p>Still, he doesn’t <em> detest </em> the sight of Kojiro’s face. ‘Mildly repulsed by’ might be a better way to put it. And he thinks Kojiro feels the same, if the fire in his eyes when they argue is any indication.</p><p>But sometimes he forgets that he doesn’t actually hate Kojiro. Times like this, watching beefs at the ‘S’ track when Kojiro makes a stupid remark about Carla and they’re suddenly at each other’s throats.</p><p>He grabs the collar of Kojiro’s button-down (half unbuttoned, and from this angle, his pecs are hard to ignore) and whispers, “Say that again and I <em> will </em> destroy you.”</p><p>Kojiro smirks. Kaoru wants to slap him. “You wish. You think you’re so special, but you’re just using your board as a replacement ‘cause you can’t get laid, Kaoru.”</p><p>“Don’t call me that. I can’t fucking believe you,” Kaoru replies. He exhales through his nose and releases Kojiro, landing a final kick on his shin.</p><p>Kojiro howls. “That was uncalled for!” he yells, clutching a hand to his chest. “Lay off me, will you?”</p><p>He rolls his eyes. “Not until you lay off Carla. Apologize to her, you oaf.”</p><p>Kojiro pushes him in the chest with a finger. Neither of them moves. “No.”</p><p>Kaoru looks around. The track has gone silent; everyone around them is staring. He briefly wonders why—this isn’t exactly an uncommon occurrence, since they get into one of these fights at least twice a week.</p><p>But he doesn’t have any longer to ponder on the fact, because he turns his head back and Kojiro’s face is only millimeters away from his. He gulps.</p><p>“Let me go, you fucking gorilla,” he mutters, scowling. There’s no venom in the words. A strand of pink hair falls into his face and he flicks it away angrily. “Everyone’s staring.”</p><p>Kojiro hums and pulls Kaoru's mask down so the rest of his face is exposed.</p><p>He’s even closer now—Kaoru can see the gold flecks in his red irises. His grin is confident. </p><p>Too late, Kaoru remembers that Kojiro will do <em> anything </em> for attention.</p><p>The hundreds of eyes on the two of them widen when Kojiro leans in closer and kisses him square on the mouth. Someone hoots in the background and a group near them sigh collectively.</p><p>Kojiro’s lips are soft and he tastes like Italian food, savoury with a hint of zest. He kisses deeper with practiced ease, and Kaoru’s knees go weak.</p><p>One of Kojiro’s arms rests on the small of Kaoru’s back, keeping him supported as his legs threaten to give out. The other hand twines lazily into his ponytail, wrapping a lock of Kaoru’s hair around his fingers.</p><p>Instinctively, Kaoru’s arm snakes up to wrap around Kojiro’s waist. </p><p>But at the last second, he thinks frantically: <em>wait, what the hell is going on</em>, and he pushes Kojiro away from him forcefully. They stumble back in sync.</p><p>“What the fuck was that?” he spits out, jabbing a finger at Kojiro. </p><p>The distance between them has never felt wider. Three meters of distance to reflect the space carved in Kaoru’s heart that he can’t just see but <em> feel </em> as well—the gaping chasm between the drumming of his pulse and Kojiro’s cocksure, lazy grin.</p><p>The audience claps and he shrieks, “Shut up!”</p><p>Kojiro’s smug smile never wavers. “A kiss for the road, sweetheart,” he answers. “Meet me at the restaurant tonight, yeah?”</p><p>Kaoru turns on his heel and storms away. His lips are still tingling.</p><p>Miya runs up to him before he’s out of the track. “Cherry,” he says, sounding relieved. “What was that?”</p><p>Kaoru clenches his fist. “I have no idea,” he replies, composed as ever despite the anger coiling in his gut.</p><p>Miya’s hand falls away from his arm. “So you’re <em> not </em> together?” he asks. His eyes are wide.</p><p>“What—no!” he sputters. “What gave you that idea?”</p><p>Reki comes up to them, Langa by his side. “Probably the fact that you just made out in public,” he responds cheerily. “Congratulations, by the way. None of us knew you were dating.”</p><p>Langa shrugs. “It was kind of obvious, actually.”</p><p>Kaoru rubs his forehead. “What.”</p><p>“Hey, congrats!” It’s Shadow this time, smiling genuinely. The effect is undercut by the bold makeup he’s still wearing and the painted green flames licking around his forehead. “Nice to see you two sort out your differences. We knew you would get together at some point. I’ll get you a flower bouquet or something.”</p><p>Kaoru doesn’t reply. He kicks up the stand of his motorcycle and drives away in a storm of dust and gravel, Miya’s calls fading out in the distance.</p><p>How the hell is he supposed to face any of them after <em> that? </em></p><p>Kojiro’s voice echoes in his ears. <em> Meet me at the restaurant tonight. </em></p><p>“I will <em> not </em> meet him tonight,” he says aloud. </p><p>Carla’s purple lights blink. “I believe he is waiting for you,” she says.</p><p>“Still,” he answers. “I’m better than that.”</p><p>━━━━━━</p><p>He is not better than that. So he ends up parked in front of <em> Sia La Luce </em> at two in the morning, dressed in his normal clothes. The hem of his <em> yukata </em> brushes the pavement.</p><p>Through the window, Kojiro is visible at the bar, cleaning up and loading dishes.</p><p>Kaoru groans. He opens the door and the bell tinkles.</p><p>“Kaoru,” Kojiro greets him. “Sit wherever.”</p><p>He sits down primly at the bar and wastes no time. “Why the hell did you do that?”</p><p>Kojiro sighs. “Not even a hello?”</p><p>“Answer my question.”</p><p>“Fine.” He drops a plate in the sink and rests his elbows on the bar. “People kept asking if we were dating, and I was thinking about it, and I guess…it was a spur-of-the-moment thing, okay?”</p><p>“How do you just kiss someone on a spur-of-the-moment instinct?” Kaoru asks incredulously.</p><p>Kojiro shrugs. “When you pick up as many girls as I do, it becomes second nature.”</p><p>His face wrinkles up and his hand flies out to slap Kojiro. “Forget I asked. What are we going to do? Everyone thinks we’re together,” he grumbles. “This is the worst day of my life.”</p><p>“C’mon,” Kojiro replies, offended. “I’m a good kisser.”</p><p>“Nope,” he counters immediately, even as his traitorous echo chamber of a heart thumps a steady beat: <em> yes, yes, yes</em>. “You’re really not.”</p><p>“That’s not what you thought earlier—mmph!” he goes silent as Kaoru claps a hand over his mouth.</p><p>“Be serious,” he grits out between his teeth. “We can’t let them think we’re <em> dating</em>. There has to be a way to fix this.”</p><p>“Well, we could let them think whatever they want,” Kojiro points out. “Most of them already thought we were dating.”</p><p>Kaoru’s head spins. “Why did I not know this?”</p><p>“Too busy messing around with Carla,” Kojiro says. Kaoru levels him with a stare and he raises his arms. “Kidding! Kidding. But still, how bad could it be? The girls at ‘S’ have been waiting for this to happen. And it’ll be more complicated if we tell everyone we aren’t together. Miya will hold this over our heads forever.” He punctuates each sentence by leaning closer, closer, until only the counter is separating their lips from touching.</p><p>Kaoru leans back as far as he can. He hates that Kojiro has a point. “Fine. We need…a plan or something.”</p><p>“We need a backstory,” Kojiro adds. “Otherwise no one will believe it.”</p><p>“Don’t we already have a backstory?” he says. “We were friends—” the words feel sour on his tongue— “in high school. You had a crush on me, you confessed. We got together.”</p><p>Kojiro takes offense at this, naturally. “Hey, why am I the one with a crush?” he asks, affronted.</p><p>Kaoru presses his lips together. “You think I would have a crush on you?” He bites back the more acidic words building up in his throat, but the grin slips off Kojiro’s face regardless.</p><p>“You don’t have to be so mean about it.”</p><p>“Fine. Sorry.” His mouth is unused to the apology, especially when it comes to Kojiro. “We started dating…a month ago?”</p><p>Kojiro nods in affirmation. “We’ll have to go on dates, obviously.”</p><p>Kaoru reels back. “Excuse me?”</p><p>“<em>Dates</em>,” Kojiro repeats, enunciating every letter. “That’s what people do when they date, genius.”</p><p>“Fuck off. I didn’t expect you to bring it up like that is all.”</p><p>“Wait. Have you—” Kaoru braces for impact as Kojiro narrows his eyes— “been on a date before?”</p><p>“Yes!” he snaps, patience worn thin. “Of course I have.” He declines to mention that he’s been on many dates, none successful, and that all of his partners have told him he doesn’t pay enough attention to them; that he’s cold, or reserved, or distant, or that he doesn’t seem to feel things the same way they wish he would. “They…didn’t work out.”</p><p>Kojiro nods. “Okay. Just checking.”</p><p>It’s three in the morning. The street is quiet, practically dead if not for the occasional car whizzing by, and the restaurant lamplight highlights the strong, proud tilt of Kojiro’s chin. Kaoru’s heart beats a little faster.</p><p>“So,” Kojiro says, the first to break the silence. “Dates.”</p><p>“Yes.”</p><p>“You can come by the restaurant whenever,” he offers.</p><p>“Like I don’t do that already,” Kaoru retorts. “We need better places.”</p><p>Surprisingly, Kojiro doesn’t crack a snarky joke about his restaurant not being good enough. “We can skate home together. I’ll take you for dinner on Sundays, but we have to split the bill.”</p><p>“Fine,” Kaoru relents. “What about…ground rules? Like things that are off limits?”</p><p>Kojiro shrugs, then he pulls out a notepad and writes at the top, ‘RULES.’ “Shoot.”</p><p>“No talking smack about Carla.”</p><p>“But…fine,” he gives up, caving under Kaoru’s unwavering glare. “No talking smack about Carla.”</p><p>“No flirting with other people. It’ll be less believable that way.”</p><p>Kojiro looks like he’s about to protest, but he holds his tongue abashedly. “Okay. Kissing?” A blush settles into his cheeks. Kaoru blinks twice, because there’s no way <em> Nanjo Kojiro </em> is blushing at the thought of kissing.</p><p>“What about it?”</p><p>“Well…are we going to do it or not?”</p><p>Kaoru pushes a lock of hair behind his shoulder with a <em>swish</em>. “You can kiss me on the cheek,” he says sharply, scraping his chair back and standing up. “Nothing else.”</p><p>“Sounds good.” To his retreating back, Kojiro calls, “Night, honey. Sleep well.”</p><p>“<em>Don’t </em> call me that.”</p><p>“Treasure.”</p><p>“We’re going to add this to the rules.”</p><p>━━━━━━</p><p>A brief history of Kaoru’s relationship with Nanjo Kojiro:</p><p>Kaoru met Kojiro at the tender age of fifteen, when they were both stupid teenagers with too much time to waste. </p><p>Kojiro was shyer than Kaoru, back then—his hair sprung out from his head like a particularly persistent shrub and he always hesitated before saying something. Kaoru usually had to go with him when he wanted to talk to a teacher.</p><p>But if it was just the two (or three) of them, Kojiro wasn’t timid. He would shout encouragement and film Kaoru on his dad's clunky video camera so he could see his technique, and they stayed at the skatepark past midnight most days. Their parents yelled at them, but they never stopped.</p><p>It wasn’t hard to befriend Kojiro, Kaoru thinks, nor was it hard to stay in touch with him after graduation, even as their other friends quickly moved away and out of their lives.</p><p>Somewhere along the way, they grew up. </p><p>Now Kojiro has confidence in spades and a tattoo on his left shoulder. Now Kaoru’s lip piercing is gone. Nothing is the same, no matter how much they try to pretend it is. </p><p>Neither of them will be the first to admit it, but they go to ‘S’ to feel young again. To act as if they’ve done something wrong; like stayed out past sunset, or ignored a ‘NO TRESPASSING’ sign, or stolen liquor from their parents’ cabinet, and they’re still blissfully unconcerned with the consequences.</p><p>Kojiro makes Kaoru feel like they’re eighteen years old and running away from the police, reckless and young and careless.</p><p>Kaoru catches Kojiro looking at him sometimes, like he’s a skateboarding trick he needs to figure out. Like he’s a problem he needs to solve. He stares at the back of Kaoru’s head with those glowing scarlet eyes of his, and Kaoru is finding it more difficult to ignore every day.</p><p>━━━━━━</p><p>On the first day of their pseudo-relationship, Miya comes up to him at the ‘S’ track. “You and Joe are together, right?”</p><p>Kaoru swallows, staring down the abandoned factory. Two skaters race by. He blinks. Shadow is one of them, but he doesn’t know the other one; they must be new. “Don’t remind me.”</p><p>“Oh, good,” Miya chirps. “Just making sure. Now I can get my money from Reki.”</p><p>“You guys bet on us?” Kaoru doesn’t know why he’s surprised.</p><p>“Well,” Miya says, rubbing his neck. “Kind of? It was about whether or not you would tell us soon. So I’ve won 2500 yen. Thanks, Cherry!”</p><p>“You’re welcome…?” he says, confused, and then Miya bounces away and Kojiro comes up to him.</p><p>“Hey, Kaoru,” he calls, wrapping an arm around his waist and planting a light kiss on his cheek. “Missed me?”</p><p>“You’re insufferable,” Kaoru replies, seething. “Everyone’s going to see us.”</p><p>“Isn’t that the point?” </p><p>He’s rubbing circles on Kaoru’s bare forearm.</p><p>“But—”</p><p>“Baby,” he says, voice taking on a soothing edge. Kaoru tenses. “Relax. People are watching, I’m just trying to make it believable. Doesn’t mean anything.”</p><p>Kaoru groans. “I hate this so much.” He tries to ignore how nice the weight of Kojiro’s arm feels, draped around his shoulders.</p><p>“I hate it too, honey,” Kojiro answers. The smile doesn’t leave his mouth, but it looks more strained. </p><p>Carla blinks. “Master, your pulse is remarkably high. Would you like me to recommend some deep breathing exercises?”</p><p>“No thank you, Carla,” he hisses.</p><p>Kojiro laughs, bright and bold, and Kaoru kicks his ankle in retaliation.</p><p>“Ow!”</p><p>“Your problem.”</p><p>Reki and Langa come up to congratulate them, and Shadow gives Kaoru a bouquet of yellow roses for ‘friendship and congratulations,’ then that’s that. </p><p>They skate to the restaurant together and peel off at the intersection.</p><p>Kaoru goes home in silence.</p><p>━━━━━━</p><p>Sunday comes, and Kojiro texts him an address for dinner. It’s a nondescript French place nestled in the crevice of a busy street, unassuming in comparison to the metropolis surrounding it. Kaoru almost skates right past it—the only reason he stops in the right place is that Carla lets out a <em> ding </em> to tell him he’s arrived.</p><p>It’s a hot, muggy day despite the coolness of the evening air. Kaoru ties his hair into a ponytail and pulls the door open.</p><p>He spots Kojiro almost immediately. His unruly mop of green hair stands out among the booths.</p><p>“Gorilla,” he says sourly, by way of greeting.</p><p>Kojiro’s expression twists into one of indignation. “And I thought we were gonna have a nice dinner. Of course you had to ruin it.”</p><p>Kaoru rolls his eyes, spine rigid. “Stop being dramatic.”</p><p>Kojiro’s brow furrows. “Dramatic? Me?” He crosses his arms as if to say something else, but withers under the intensity of the dirty look Kaoru gives him. “What do you wanna order?”</p><p>Kaoru adjusts his glasses. “Doesn’t matter. You can pick.”</p><p>Kojiro’s eyebrows almost disappear under his hair. “Wow. I didn’t expect that. Um…” he tilts his head and stares at the menu. “The onion soup is good.”</p><p>“Okay.”</p><p>“Okay?” Kojiro asks skeptically. “No complaints? No ‘let me order my own food or I’ll kick your ass’?” </p><p>Kaoru flaps his hand. The heat stops him from exerting any more effort. “I’m trying to be more accommodating.”</p><p>Kojiro squints. “No thanks. Go back to being stuck-up, it suits you better. This is just weird.”</p><p>“Thanks for the compliment, asshole,” he says mockingly. “I can’t believe you think so highly of me.”</p><p>Kojiro props his chin on his fist. “Whatever. We’re having onion soup, and you <em> better </em> not complain when you eat it.”</p><p>“Fine.”</p><p>“Fine!”</p><p>━━━━━━</p><p>After dinner, they walk out of the restaurant and mount their boards—slowing, and then stopping, at the intersection. The twilight breeze whistles past their ears and stirs up Kaoru’s hair. It flits across his back lazily.</p><p>Kojiro is flooded in a ring of golden light. He looks like he’s been steeped in dusk.</p><p>“See you tomorrow,” Kojiro tells him. “Say good night to Carla for me too.”</p><p>Kaoru promptly sticks out a foot to trip him. Kojiro stumbles and rights himself. “Unprovoked?” he huffs. “I didn’t do anything to you.”</p><p>“No talking smack about Carla, asshat.”</p><p>“Fuck off.”</p><p>Kaoru doesn’t deign to reply. He turns the other way and pushes off with one foot. Without looking, he calls, “Good night.”</p><p>When he glances over his shoulder, Kojiro is still there, fingers lifted in a wave.</p><p>━━━━━━</p><p>For all their planning, there’s no marked shift from before their ‘relationship’ to after. It’s deceptively normal—Kaoru still drops by Kojiro’s restaurant every day, they’re still at each other’s throats constantly, they still kick each other in the shins when they’re especially mad.</p><p>Nobody else really takes notice, either, besides a few offhand comments from Miya.</p><p>Kaoru doesn’t have to put any conscious effort into acting like Kojiro’s boyfriend. He only remembers when someone else makes a remark about them being sappy, and then it’s as if he’s been doused in ice water and he rips himself away from Kojiro faster than Kojiro can say, “Wait.”</p><p>There are a few changes, though.</p><p>The first real one is that Kojiro becomes more affectionate. It’s all for the pretense, of course; he lets go of Kaoru’s hand as soon as they’re out of the public eye and shoots him insults under his breath. Even though Kaoru <em> knows </em> it doesn’t mean anything, it doesn’t stop him from getting increasingly stressed about it.</p><p>“Have you noticed…is Kojiro getting more—touchy?” he asks Reki abruptly one day when they’re at the skatepark. His <em> yukata </em> flaps around his ankles.</p><p>The boy looks surprised. “What?”</p><p>Kaoru immediately wishes he could take it back. “Never mind.”</p><p>“No, tell me,” Reki whines. “I wanna know.”</p><p>He rolls his eyes. “Brat. Kojiro’s been weirdly…touchy recently. I wondered if I was the only one who noticed.”</p><p>Reki purses his lips and stares at his skateboard, tucked under his arm. “I dunno. He’s always kinda been like that.”</p><p><em> Teenagers</em>, thinks Kaoru, <em> so unobservant</em>. He tells Reki this much.</p><p>“That’s mean!” Reki frowns. “I’m super observant.”</p><p>“Oh? What’s an observation you’ve made recently?” He arches an eyebrow.</p><p>Reki slumps, then puffs his chest. Even his hair stands straight up. “Joe stares at you a lot.”</p><p>Kaoru thinks Reki might have lost it. “Pardon?”</p><p>“He stares at you a lot,” Reki repeats. “If he thinks you aren’t looking. It’s kinda gross.” He wrinkles his nose.</p><p>Kaoru glares at him and tries to ignore the swooping sensation in his gut that’s quickly replaced by something sour and ugly, settling deep in his stomach like a rock that’s hit bottom. “That isn’t a real observation.” </p><p>He probably shouldn’t be picking fights with high school students, but he hasn’t had a real argument in weeks—not since he and Kojiro started ‘dating’—and he needs some way of letting out his pent-up energy. So he crosses his arms and scowls down at Reki, in all his poofy red hair and puppy-eyes glory. “Come back when you have proof. Or a better observation.”</p><p>Reki pouts. “I do have proof,” he insists. “Hey, Langa!”</p><p>Langa skates over to them. “Reki,” he says cheerfully, looking Reki up and down. “What is it?”</p><p>“Do you think Joe stares at Cherry a lot?” Reki jerks a thumb at Kaoru. “He doesn’t believe me but it’s true, right?”</p><p>Langa nods. “Of course it is,” he agrees earnestly, his voice careful and softly accented. Kaoru doesn’t know whether to believe him or not, especially considering Langa has a propensity for agreeing with everything Reki says. </p><p>This theory is proven correct when Langa tilts his head and asks, “Reki, wanna see my new trick?”</p><p>Kaoru stands up and decides to leave them alone. He has enough to think about.</p><p>━━━━━━</p><p>He meets Kojiro at a cafe for lunch one weekend. “Dumbass,” he says when Kojiro sits down. “You’re late.”</p><p>Kojiro rolls his eyes. “Not all of us are sticklers for time like you.” But his signature smirk is gone, and he just seems tired.</p><p>Kaoru raises his eyebrow. “Uptight today, aren’t we?” he remarks. Kojiro sends him an exhausted look and rubs his hand over his face, yawning.</p><p>“Something like that.”</p><p>“Take a nap,” he says decisively, laying a hand on Kojiro’s arm. Light, tentative, waiting. “I’ll buy you something. You need to rest.”</p><p>“Thanks, Kaoru,” Kojiro mumbles. He leans back in the booth and closes his eyes. “Wake me up when the food gets here.”</p><p>A waitress comes up to them, tray hugged to her chest, and she nods understandingly when Kaoru tells her he’s ordering for both of them. Kojiro is one of those monsters who drinks coffee without cream or sugar at all hours of the day, so Kaoru gets him a cup of black coffee and a tray of <em> yakitori</em>.</p><p>Then the waitress leaves. Kaoru slips his glasses further up the bridge of his nose as he folds the menu and puts it off to the side.</p><p>Kojiro lets out a snort.</p><p>Kaoru wrinkles his nose.</p><p>Objectively, Kojiro looks nowhere near attractive right now. His features are all drooping; his mouth hangs open, his brows are furrowed, and there’s a lock of straggly hair bouncing between his eyes that flutters every time he takes a breath. </p><p><em> He’d be embarrassed for someone to see him like this</em>, thinks Kaoru wryly. And then: <em> it would be really easy to kiss him right now. </em></p><p>Kaoru can practically see it—closing the gap between them, pressing his lips to the gentle, sleepy set of Kojiro’s mouth, cupping his hand around Kojiro’s jaw to narrow the distance.</p><p>In the middle of a cafe, on a fake date, with Kojiro sitting across from him snoring louder than a steam engine, Kaoru realizes he kind of wants to kiss him, for real. And he kind of wants to date him. For real.</p><p>He freezes, and it’s like a sharp voice cuts through the hazy fog of his mind to say, <em> you can’t take advantage of him. You’ve been friends for too long to mess it up</em>.</p><p>Kojiro’s breathing stutters. He makes a snuffling sound in the back of his throat.</p><p>Kaoru’s chest winds itself tight when he hears it, tugging hard enough that his heart tumbles off the precipice and into free-fall.</p><p>━━━━━━</p><p>By the time their food arrives, he’s in full-on panic mode. He thanks the waitress quietly and wakes Kojiro up with a well-timed kick to his calf.</p><p>“Rude,” Kojiro says snippily. “You could have just told me.”</p><p>Every word feels like another piece of shrapnel nudging at Kaoru’s bare edges. “You wouldn’t have woken up that way,” he points out.</p><p>Kojiro yawns. “Thanks, I guess,” he mumbles drowsily. “Food looks good.”</p><p>Kaoru’s gut twinges. He nods, not trusting himself to speak. The food does look good, but he picks at it anyway. Every bite goes down his throat like sand.</p><p>They don’t speak for most of the meal. Kojiro is too busy taking pictures of his food, and Kaoru doesn’t even know if he can talk properly without blurting out something stupid and having to deal with the crushing weight of disappointment.</p><p>Kaoru finishes first, and he pulls out his phone to transfer Kojiro the proper amount of money. He looks down at his lap as he taps in the numbers.</p><p>“Are you leaving already?” The surprise is evident in Kojiro’s voice.</p><p>“I have things to do,” he mutters. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” Tomorrow, for their weekly dinner, which will inevitably be ten times more painful.</p><p>Kojiro tilts his head. “I thought you stopped working on weekends?”</p><p>Kaoru avoids his gaze and curses Kojiro for knowing him so well. “Something came up.”</p><p>“If you say so,” Kojiro answers doubtfully.</p><p>“I do say so,” he snaps. Then he sighs. He feels kind of bad for being so dramatic when Kojiro’s clearly not having a good day. “Whatever. Sorry, I guess. For getting mad.”</p><p>“It’s fine. But Kaoru,” Kojiro begins, hesitating, Kaoru’s name soft on his tongue. “Is anything wrong? You’ve been kinda off today.” He glances up at Kaoru, open and curious.</p><p>“Of course not,” Kaoru replies immediately. “I’m just busy, don’t worry about it.”</p><p>“Are you sure? You can tell me, you know. I won’t make fun of you.”</p><p>And Kojiro sounds kind, so much kinder than Kaoru deserves, so he bites back the words threatening to spill from his mouth: <em> you’re the problem</em>. Instead, he says, “I’m sure. I appreciate the offer. Bye.”</p><p>He rises to stand and scrambles to gather his things from the seat. Kojiro’s gaze is still fixed on him, appraising.</p><p>The waitress waves at him, and he can barely muster up the energy to wave back. </p><p>He pushes the door open and walks out into the blustery, windy street. The sea breeze whips his hair into a tangle and he squeezes his eyes shut.</p><p>━━━━━━</p><p>Over the span of the next twenty-four hours, Kaoru discovers there’s a certain, ugly pain that comes with being in love with his childhood friend slash enemy slash fake-boyfriend, a pulsing ache that lodges itself between his lungs and suffocates him when he’s skating through back avenues all alone, only Carla for company.</p><p>Kojiro is his closest friend, which complicates things. In the decade they’ve known each other, Kaoru has come to depend on him for almost everything that Carla can’t solve. </p><p>Kojiro knows him best out of everyone, which is especially inconvenient now that Kaoru knows he is disgustingly, hopelessly in love with him, and even hearing Kojiro’s voice makes him feel like he’s been bowled over.</p><p>It’s uniquely agonizing to know that Kojiro isn’t straight, either. </p><p>Kaoru has seen him with men before, so it isn’t like he <em> can’t </em> be attracted to Kaoru. He just isn’t, and that’s another issue altogether—Kojiro likes men, but not him.</p><p>Maybe Kaoru is the problem.</p><p>Still. He can’t be mad about it, can’t be mad about a foregone conclusion. He just wishes it would have been someone else entirely. Someone who doesn’t talk about girls constantly, who doesn’t crave attention like his only life source, someone who isn’t in a perpetual state of animosity with Kaoru. </p><p>Someone he isn’t fake-dating for the benefit of the gossips at ‘S.’ Someone who didn’t kiss him in front of a crowd of hundreds of skaters just for his fifteen minutes in the limelight.</p><p>As stupid as it sounds, Kaoru doesn’t really know how to love anyone else. Kojiro has been next to him for years, a comforting presence despite how foolish he acts most of the time.</p><p>Like most problems Kaoru encounters, he resolves to ignore it for as long as possible. He resigns himself to a future of practicing calligraphy till his fingers are shaky and staying out past dawn skateboarding through the quiet, dead streets of Okinawa, staying out drinking liquid courage and trying to run away from the intangibility of being in love with Nanjo Kojiro.</p><p>If he can’t be with the only man he’s ever properly loved, he might as well get ahead in the things he’s actually good at.</p><p>━━━━━━</p><p>He pretends everything is normal, for the time being. It’s not especially difficult; Kojiro is oblivious at the best of times, and Kaoru is so used to hiding his emotions that it’s second nature.</p><p>Still, sometimes he sees Kojiro laughing at a girl’s joke or preening under the bright glow of attention, and he asks himself, <em> how much longer will this go on? What would happen if I left you alone? </em></p><p>Those are the worst times. The thoughts pile onto him, unforgiving, until he feels vulnerable and split open at the seams. He thinks he might hate himself, then.</p><p>━━━━━━</p><p>They’re at ‘S,’ predictably, when it happens, when Kaoru breaks the blanket of tension between them. The sun is dipping behind the beaches of Okinawa and everyone is bathed in the ruddy lustre of nightfall, their voices high and sharp with excitement.</p><p>There’s nothing special about tonight in particular; no up-and-coming rookies or old talents come back to sweep the field, but Kaoru is high on the excitement anyway, and electricity tears through his veins like some sort of euphoric drug tossing him back in the heady rush of high school all over again.</p><p>Somehow, he and Kojiro end up pushed to the forefront of the crowd. He curls his hand around Kojiro’s arm to avoid getting sucked into the whirlpool of skaters, and someone wolf-whistles. </p><p>Someone else calls, “Lovebirds!”</p><p>A group of people form a ring around them, clapping. It’s not every day two of the most renowned skaters at ‘S’ act like Couple of the Year, especially not with how vicious their fights can get on the worst of days.</p><p>Kojiro looks him square in the eyes and one of his eyebrows quirks up, challenging.</p><p>Kaoru stares back at him dead-on.</p><p>And then he leans in and captures Kojiro’s lips in his. Their mouths press together so hard Kaoru thinks his lips might bruise afterwards, but Kojiro pulls him closer and softens the kiss, his tongue licking into Kaoru’s mouth.</p><p>Kissing Kojiro is incredibly foreign yet achingly familiar; Kaoru is unaccustomed to the press of Kojiro’s lips against his and the way his arms move across the length of Kaoru’s back, cupping his jaw and tugging on a lock of his hair, but he leans into the dizziness and intoxication it offers like a second home—one that he’s lost and found so many times.</p><p>He grips harder onto the muscles of Kojiro’s arms, even as his brain screams for him to get away. </p><p>He shouldn’t muddy the boundaries of their relationship like this, shouldn’t humour Kojiro’s every whim, shouldn’t act like just another hookup for Kojiro to play with. Shouldn’t be making it feel more real than it already does.</p><p>His eyes flutter closed. He kisses back anyway.</p><p>━━━━━━</p><p>After what feels like an eternity, he pulls back, panting, panic ripping through his bloodstream, and pushes Kojiro away. “Fuck,” he whispers, looking around for his skateboard. “Fuck.” He picks it up and storms through the crowd, already calling, “Carla, navigate the fastest route home, please.”</p><p>“Kaoru,” Kojiro calls from the other side of the horde, confusion creeping into his voice. “Kaoru, come back, what’s wrong?”</p><p>Kaoru doesn’t answer. His lips are puffy and his hair is mussed, but he pulls up his mask and jams the helmet on anyway. He jumps onto his motorcycle, ponytail fluttering behind him, and drives away. </p><p>When he blinks, his lashes are wet.</p><p>━━━━━━</p><p>They don’t talk for a week. Kaoru avoids the track at all costs and stays home to stew in his sad yearning.</p><p>Shadow hunts him down to tell him Kojiro’s been snappy and standoffish, and whatever happened between them, Kaoru needs to make amends.</p><p>“It’s not that simple,” he says shortly, already tired of the probing questions and wondering glances. He uses his fingers to shape the head of a brush and dips it in a pot of ink.</p><p>“I know it’s not,” Shadow replies patiently, and honestly, Kaoru has no idea how he keeps such a cool head when he isn’t in his skating persona, but he wishes Shadow would just give up and yell at him so he would have a reason to be angry. “But you need to fix it anyway.”</p><p>He sets the brush down and turns around to face Shadow. He hates how small his voice sounds. “How?”</p><p>The two of them make eye contact.</p><p>“Listen. Even before you guys started dating, you were always together. It isn’t going to change just because of one misunderstanding—which I think this is,” Shadow adds helpfully. His face is gentle. “As long as you take the initiative to find him and apologize, or tell him your side of the story, I bet you’ll make up in no time.”</p><p>Kaoru wipes the lenses of his glasses with his <em>yukata</em>. “You make it sound a lot easier than it is,” he mutters.</p><p>“He’s been waiting for you,” Shadow says, changing the subject. “Every night, he’s there and everyone can tell he’s looking for someone. Which is obviously you. But you never come.”</p><p>Kaoru’s heart pangs.</p><p>“Look—I think we might have to break up,” he replies, mostly for Shadow’s benefit. “I…fuck. I can’t keep going like this.”</p><p>Like <em>this</em>, waking up every day and remembering he’s fallen in love with Kojiro, of all people. The spasm of his lungs that always follows the realization is the worst part. It’s only been seven days—less, even, but the pain is debilitating.</p><p>Shadow’s mouth drops open. “You <em>can’t</em>,” he says, sounding scandalized. “I mean, you can, but…you looked so happy when he was with you. And the same for him,” he supplies carefully. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you smile like that before. It was freaky. But nice.”</p><p>Kaoru’s mouth flattens into a thin line. “I miss him,” he confesses faintly. “I can’t get used to not seeing him everyday. But it’s too much,” he says. “I lie awake at night wondering if he’s going to find someone and leave me behind. Or if I dreamed it all up, or if he’ll find out that I want us to be <em>real</em>, not just some pity theater like we’ve been doing, and decide he doesn’t want to be friends with me anymore. What else am I supposed to do? It’s not like I could <em> tell </em> him.”</p><p>Shadow tilts his head. “What do you mean ‘real’?”</p><p><em> Shit</em>. </p><p>Kaoru closes his eyes. “I wasn’t supposed to mention that.”</p><p>“Probably not,” Shadow agrees. “But now that you have, you might as well tell me the story.” He crosses his legs, looking like an eager preschooler. Kaoru doesn’t know if he wants to laugh or cry.</p><p>“That time you saw us at the track,” he starts. “When we kissed.”</p><p>Shadow nods. “Yes. I gave you yellow roses.”</p><p>“Uh-huh. It was an accident that got way out of hand. Apparently he just kissed me out of instinct, and by then everyone thought we were dating and we had to go along with it. Otherwise we’d have to explain the—” his lip curls— “<em>incident </em>to everyone who saw us.”</p><p>Shadow narrows his eyes. “I don’t really get it.”</p><p>Kaoru laughs, acrid and caustic. “I don’t either. Neither of us knew what we were doing—we had rules, you know, of what not to do to make it believable. I went and fucked it all up by falling in love with him properly.”</p><p>“I see,” Shadow breathes, his lips forming the shape of an ‘O.’</p><p>Kaoru nods, swallowing. He says thickly, “Then I kissed him for real. And I…ran away right after. I guess I fooled myself into thinking I was better than that, because obviously I’m not.” He splays out his arms dramatically. “The end.”</p><p>“That’s terrible,” Shadow says after a beat. “Now I sort of understand. But can I give you some advice?”</p><p>Kaoru rolls his eyes. There’s a lump in his throat and he struggles to speak around it. “You’re going to give it to me anyway, so just say it.”</p><p>Shadow nods. “I think you need to consider what he’s feeling,” he answers softly. “I think you’re so busy panicking and running away that you haven’t even stopped to ask yourself if he feels the same. People don’t kiss each other out of nowhere unless they feel <em>something</em>, Cherry,” he continues. “He kissed you back last time, right?”</p><p>Kaoru nods. “Yes, but—”</p><p>“Then is it really so difficult to believe he would like you too?” Shadow’s voice is gentle, too gentle for the bitterness eating Kaoru up inside, and the hollow space in his ribcage throbs at the sound.</p><p>A moment passes. Kaoru unties his hair and uses his fingers to pull it over to one shoulder. “Yes,” he whispers. “I—why? Why would he like me? I’ve been nothing but mean to him ever since we met. I don’t even know why he sticks around at this point.”</p><p>Shadow gives him a look close to understanding. “You’re not giving yourself enough credit, Cherry,” he responds thoughtfully. </p><p>“I’m scared. I can’t give him what he needs,” Kaoru mumbles. A lock of hair falls into his eyes, but he doesn’t bother to move it.</p><p>“What do you think he needs?”</p><p>Kaoru’s eyes go shiny. He blinks. The blurriness is still there. “Someone who isn’t me.”</p><p>“Come on.”</p><p>He lifts his shoulders and drops them. “Someone who gives him the attention he wants. Someone who doesn’t pick fights with him all the time or insult him. Someone who doesn’t run away because they’re too scared to face their problems. Someone who isn’t so much of a burden.”</p><p>“Do you think you’re a burden?”</p><p>Kaoru croaks out a small reply: “Now and again, yes. I think—I think he deserves better.”</p><p>“Cherry,” Shadow says firmly, reassuring. “You are <em> not </em> a burden. You’re just human, and a great one at that. None of us are perfect; everyone knows that. I’m sure Joe thinks the same.”</p><p>Kaoru sniffles and wipes his nose angrily. “You don’t know that.”</p><p>“Yes, I do.”</p><p>“No, you don’t.”</p><p>Shadow pulls out his phone. “I may have texted him earlier, actually. Please don’t be mad, I had no idea what to do.”</p><p>“…<em>Shadow</em>. What did you do.”</p><p>He leans back and wilts from the force of Kaoru’s scowl. “I texted him before I came here because I didn’t know if you would be ready to talk. He’s—he’s outside right now. Waiting for you.”</p><p>Kaoru glowers. “I didn’t say you could do this.”</p><p>“You also didn’t say I could come here in the first place, but here we are,” Shadow points out. “I think we’re long past that. Just tell him what you said to me and you two will be fine. I pinky-promise.”</p><p>Kaoru exhales sharply and stands up. “Whatever.”</p><p>“You need a tissue before you go?” Shadow asks, procuring one from his pocket.</p><p>“Yes please.”</p><p>━━━━━━</p><p>Kojiro is waiting outside, leaning against a brick wall. He looks good like this, hair dishevelled and posture lax. He looks even better than Kaoru dreamed, and that’ll probably make it harder for him to do anything without crying again.</p><p>But then Kojiro spots him, and the way his face morphs into pure relief, the corners of his mouth lifting and the massive bags under his eyes half-dissolving, breaks Kaoru into a pile of glass shards and rebuilds him all over again. “Kaoru,” he whispers, half-soothing and half-panicked. “Kaoru, are you okay?”</p><p>Kaoru sniffles, dropping the tissue Shadow gave him into a nearby trash can. “I don’t know,” he admits, voice breaking in the middle. “I’m sorry.” </p><p>Kojiro’s ruby eyes shine with concern. “Wanna tell me what’s wrong?” He wraps his arms around Kaoru’s slight shoulders and pulls him in close, until Kaoru’s hiccuping subsides and he’s clutching onto the fabric of Kojiro’s stupid tropical-patterned shirt like it’s a lifeline, warm and comforting.</p><p>But then the moment passes and Kaoru tries to extract himself, hitting his fists uselessly against the plane of Kojiro’s back. “You can let me go.”</p><p>“I don’t think I will,” Kojiro replies pleasantly. “Not until you start talking.”</p><p>“Not here,” Kaoru answers weakly after a moment of silence. “Can we—go somewhere else?”</p><p>They end up in the back room of <em> Sia La Luce</em>, because of course they do. Kaoru has stopped crying and there are only traces of redness in his eyes, but Kojiro still shoots him worried looks every once in a while and keeps his hand on the small of Kaoru’s back. </p><p>Kaoru thinks he would probably like this—Kojiro being all considerate and thoughtful—if he wasn’t trying his best to blink back the tears.</p><p>“You’ve been avoiding me all week,” Kojiro says, his voice calm and assured in the stagnant storage-room air. “And you were acting funny even before that.”</p><p>Kaoru nods. “I was.”</p><p>“Was it the kiss?”</p><p>He pauses to think. “Maybe,” he responds. “Before that, though—I was going through some stuff. It wasn’t your fault.”</p><p>Suddenly, Kojiro’s hand flies out and a slap lands on Kaoru’s arm, stinging.</p><p>“What the fuck?”</p><p>“Oh, come on,” Kojiro says. “<em>It wasn’t your fault</em>—just <em> tell </em>me what’s wrong and I’ll decide if it was my fault or not.”</p><p>Kaoru fixes him with a glare. “First of all, I do <em> not </em> sound like that. Second of all, I know how much you like blaming other people for your problems. Not all of us have accountability issues. I think I would <em> know </em> when something was your fault.”</p><p>“Not this time,” Kojiro counters. “Out with it, and I promise I won’t blame anyone else. I wouldn’t do that,” he adds, softer, “if it was really important. You trust me, right?”</p><p>Kaoru nods, barely perceptible. “I figured something out, and I think…” he clenches his jaw. “I think we need to stop.”</p><p>Kojiro’s voice is faint. “What?”</p><p>“We need to stop,” he says again. “Stop whatever this is. I can’t do it anymore. It’s too difficult, Kojiro, I just—”</p><p>“Did you find someone else?” Kojiro asks. He sounds broken and <em>so </em>impossibly fragile, and Kaoru hates himself for doing this, hates himself for stripping Kojiro down until all that’s left is hurt, running deep into the cracks of his core. “Was I not a good enough boyfriend? I probably shouldn't have suggested it in the first place.” He laughs, but there’s no joy in the sound. Just sadness.</p><p>Kaoru’s throat runs dry. “No,” he croaks. “No, that’s not it.”</p><p>“Then what is it?” Kojiro sniffs. “I’m not going to know until you say it, Kaoru.”</p><p>He leans back and tips his head up. “I made a mistake,” he confesses, small.</p><p>“…Mistake?”</p><p>“Yes,” he replies louder. “I fucked up. I didn’t mean to hurt you, Kojiro, but I <em> did</em>, and then I panicked—”</p><p>“Kaoru. What’s going on?”</p><p>“I fell in <em>love</em>, you idiot!” he shrieks, and the way Kojiro’s face falls into something close to devastation—the fire in his eyes flickering and going blank, makes Kaoru want to collapse.</p><p>“You fell in love,” Kojiro whispers. He inches back, scrambling further away imperceptibly, and Kaoru’s heart twists into a festering cesspool of misery.</p><p>He nods.</p><p>“And you want to stop this because you have feelings?” Kojiro asks for clarification.</p><p>Another nod, Kaoru’s hair falling over his shoulder from the movement. He winds his finger around a strand, tugging hard enough to leave a pinprick of pain on his scalp. </p><p>“Let’s stop, then,” Kojiro says finally, his voice empty. “I’ll leave you alone. Go chase after them, I couldn’t care less.” He spins on his heel, the words ringing in the air, and it takes Kaoru’s brain a second to catch up.</p><p>“Wait, what?”</p><p>“I said, go after them!” Kojiro snaps back. “I’m letting you go, you don’t have to do this anymore—it was a stupid idea. Have a good time, Kaoru.” He waves over his shoulder.</p><p>Kaoru squints. The door creaks, and he opens his mouth. “Nanjo Kojiro, get back here.”</p><p>Kojiro storms back in. His eyes are glossy. “Let me go,” he says, pleading. “Please.”</p><p>“No, you asshole,” he answers, anger rushing through his veins. He places a steely hand on Kojiro’s arm. “Didn’t you understand what I was saying?”</p><p>“That you’re in love with someone else,” Kojiro mumbles. He won’t meet Kaoru’s gaze.</p><p>Kaoru sighs. “Kojiro, no, I—”</p><p>“Stop doing this to me.”</p><p>“I fell in love with <em> you</em>, dumbass!” Kaoru screams, all his pent-up frustration pouring out. He kicks Kojiro’s shin in retaliation. “I wanted it—<em>us </em>to be real. So badly. You have to stop going around <em>assuming </em>things and hurting people, I thought I should…” his voice drops. “I thought I should break things off before you found out and became an asshole about it. Or decided you didn't want to be friends anymore.”</p><p>Kojiro gapes. “Me?”</p><p>He sounds so incredulous, Kaoru can’t quell the urge to cry. “Yes, you,” he barks, a tear trickling down his cheek. “You fucking moron.”</p><p>Kojiro’s mouth curves at the corners. “You’re in love with me.”</p><p>“Are you going to make me say it again?”</p><p>And then he can’t move, because Kojiro is pinning his shoulders to the back wall and there are unshed tears gleaming on the fringe of his lashes that Kaoru can see from a foot away. Kojiro leans closer.</p><p>“You’re insane,” he breathes evenly, staring hard at Kaoru, like there’s something magnificent there he’s waiting to uncover. “You’re absolutely ridiculous, Kaoru.”</p><p>“You don’t have to rub it in,” Kaoru says snarkily, even though internally he’s thinking, <em> what is going on</em>.</p><p>“Sweetheart,” Kojiro says, cutting him off. “Why do you think I came up with that idea in the first place? I’ve loved you for so fucking long, coming up on eight years now, maybe—”</p><p>Kaoru goes rigid. “Excuse me?”</p><p>“Eight years and I was so selfish, I couldn’t stand seeing you around other people,” Kojiro goes on, ignoring him. “I thought you would say no when I suggested it, I was so <em>sure</em>, because how could <em> you </em> feel anything for me, I…” he trails off, shaking his head. His eyes twinkle and he laughs wetly. “I can’t believe it.”</p><p>Kaoru is overcome with a wave of emotion. He grips Kojiro’s jaw with his hands. Still, he can’t stop himself from asking: “What if we start dating and you realize you don’t love me after all?”</p><p>Kojiro laughs. “Kaoru, we’ve been friends for ten years. I think I’d know if I couldn’t stand to be around you by now.”</p><p>Kaoru uses his thumb to rub circles into the curve of Kojiro’s cheekbone and kisses him.</p><p>Kojiro returns the kiss with twice the enthusiasm, his fingers wandering up Kaoru’s back and drifting into his hair. He pulls on a lock of pink hair sharply, and Kaoru honest-to-god <em>groans</em>, tilting his head to give Kojiro more access.</p><p>Kojiro kisses him harder and it feels like the culmination of years upon <em> years </em> of waiting and hoping and praying desperately, praying for a love Kaoru hadn’t known was already right there, expecting him to come home the whole time.</p><p>“Kojiro,” he says, inhaling deeply when they pull apart, “Kojiro—”</p><p>“Shh,” Kojiro answers. He presses a finger to Kaoru’s lips, damp and kiss-swollen. “Don’t talk.”</p><p>And then he surges back up into the warmth of Kaoru’s mouth, and Kaoru forgets what he was going to say altogether.</p><p>━━━━━━</p><p>They skate to ‘S’ the next day, the dusk casting them in a golden glow and the palm trees waving lazily overhead.</p><p>Kojiro refuses to let go of his hand until they nearly crash into a street sign, and then he draws his arm back to his side in consternation.</p><p>Shadow sees them out of the corner of his eye, and his mouth stretches into an approximation of a wide smile. It only looks slightly terrifying, but Kaoru tries his best to return the sentiment. He tightens his hold on Kojiro’s hand.</p><p>“Cherry!” Miya exclaims, running up to them. Reki and Langa are hot on his heels. “You’re back,” he observes. “We all missed you. Especially Joe.”</p><p>“Hey!”</p><p>Kaoru looks down at their shining faces—Miya and Reki and Langa, all three of them, and Kojiro next to him, solid and steady and reassuring. He exhales shakily. “I missed you too,” he says. “Thank you.”</p><p>Reki’s eyes widen. “Are you getting emotional?” he asks disbelievingly.</p><p>“No, you little brat,” Kaoru scowls, but the effort is futile—his cheeks are flushing rosy and he has to use his sleeve to dab his eyes.</p><p>Kojiro slips his hand into Kaoru’s and interlaces their fingers. “He’s totally getting emotional,” he confirms, snickering. “Isn’t it weird?”</p><p>Langa nods fervently. “It is. But I’m glad you’re happy, Cherry,” he says. “You deserve it.”</p><p>Then the waterworks really begin, and Shadow starts to cry too, for no apparent reason, his face paint smearing into a mess of green, and Miya rubs his eyes fiercely. Reki squeezes Langa’s arm.</p><p>It strikes Kaoru how strange this is, the six of them sobbing on the sidelines of the skateboarding track that’s been Kaoru’s home for the past ten years, hand-in-hand with the <em> man </em> who’s been his home for even longer, the man he loved and <em> continues </em> to love every day. He hiccups.</p><p>Shadow gives him a tissue. He blows his nose.</p><p>Kojiro looks at him. “You okay?”</p><p>He nods, and there are so many things he wants to say: <em> I’m just so happy</em>, and <em> I can’t believe this is real </em> and <em> I love you so much</em>, but he just presses his lips together and smiles so wide he thinks his face might split in two. “You’re squeezing my hand too tight, you oaf,” he manages to get out.</p><p>Kojiro squeezes tighter. “Too bad. I’m never going to let go.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>kudos, bookmarks, &amp; comments are all greatly appreciated &lt;3</p><p>
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